Another Saturday, another meeting. Our man in Paris, Bruce-From-Canada, caught up with his old friend at the same corner. "About 10 seconds after I took this zoom photo—around 1030 or so—he gathered his things up and started walking in my direction. I moved over and got a little in front of him and offered. He only glanced. usually seems to study for a few seconds. looked at me and said, 'merci beaucoup, bonne journee' and continued on this way. Wonder if he'll miss me next week?
Earlier in this travelogue, Bruce told about his annual meeting with the man in the arrondissement -- the ritual potatoes, the thank you, in English. Bruce went back yesterday and found the man at his corner, and gave this succulent-looking helping of pommes de terre. This time, Bruce reports, the man thanked him, in French. (This sounds like a classic O. Henry New York short story, Bruce, so we are waiting for the next episode. A demain. )
Every October, Bruce goes back to the same neighborhood in Paris, and pretty much does the same things, as far as I can tell. Which is wonderful, considering that it is Paris.
You know Bruce. Frequent contributor to this little website, from his regular enclave in the True North Strong and Free. Retired journalist. Former resident of Japan. And very good at pointing out the foibles of that nice benign country just below his.
In our email, he counts down the days (the hours) until his next jaunt to Paris. Every year I call him a showoff, a dog, a provocateur, but knows I love showing his perambulations to my family. We made these same rounds, decades ago, once with our three children one sweet damp April. April In Paris. One more time.
This year -- with all the horrors in the world -- Paris, Bruce's Paris, his corner of Paris, seems sweet and benign. So let's go with Bruce.
Bruce writes: Three years ago i saw this guy standing about 50 metres from the Edgar Quinet marker near Montparnesse Market.
I gave him half my potato fry and he took them without a word for the three consecutive weekends i was there.
Last two years, also,
I walked past the spot again today and he was there.
I offered them to him today and he took them.
Don't think we've said word - but today he said, "Thank you"-- in English.
Ray (owner) insisted I have a cider—it was really good. Then told me he'd give me a full bottle to take back to canada when i leave. I had to turn him down since I have carry-on and liquid restrictions.
(To which George adds: "Quel dommage.")
(Presumably not the same meal): Creperie Montparnasse
GV: Not a day or night goes by without a photo from some angle. Fine by me. We all have memories of Paris. Marianne and I remember our pal Greg driving around Paris in his convertible on a sparkly summer night after the Tour de France, circling the Tower once, twice, three times, like a championship lap, and Tout Paris sparkled like this.